I looked up at the tallest tree ahead at the edge of a small clearing in the forest, and there, bathed in glorious, golden afternoon light, was the Pacific Baza! I could have cried in elation, having gone in a split second from dejection to unbridled joy.
As we followed the winding road higher and higher into the mountains, our guide suddenly called out to the driver “STOP!”. We quickly pulled over to a clearing overlooking a valley, and she said “Pheasant Coucal! Look there”, pointing to a tree not 4m away from the bus.